The Finest Game
by WolfAtSea
Summary: Serpent, the snake-tongued, Father of Lies – the world's first ever con artist, and the finest one too. After the Cage opened, the Devil ran into the Winchesters, and spontaneously made up the boldest con he had ever pulled. The only problem? It was sometimes hard to make out the fine line between truth and lies. (AU after season 8 finale.)
1. Prologue

Prologue

His brothers and sisters used to say that he was a good actor - no, the greatest actor in Heaven. It's acting, not lying, mind you. Everybody knew that lying was wrong because Father said so. Therefore, how could the second commander of the Host be lying? No, when he span words and elaborate stories that made the poor seraphs' heads swim, it was not considered lying; he was just an expert of make believe, and the young ones loved it. But after the Fall and the Garden of Eden, he became the Serpent, the snake-tongued, Father of Lies. This change in everyone's choice of words always made him laugh. And plus, he didn't care, or so he told himself. He _was_ a good liar – the world's first ever con artist, and the finest one, too.

So when "angel radio" suddenly turned silent after millennia of chatter and the cage mysteriously opened; when he woke up in his less-than-ideal secondary vessel – on earth out of all places - and realised that his brother Michael was nowhere to be found; when he stood in the middle of the road – honestly he didn't regard casually standing in the middle of a road as being odd – and was nearly run over by a black car; when the furious owners of said car turned out to be the cursed Winchester brothers, his instincts kicked in and he forged a beautiful lie on the spot.

It would be most daring con he had ever pulled: he would tell them that he was his vessel, Nicholas, or whatever that poor sap's name was. And it would work. After all, playing human - how hard could it be?


	2. One - An Encounter of the Other Kind

Author's Note: I forgot to include this in the previous chapter, but **I don't own anything**. Also, this story was inspired by AquilaTempestas'_ Light From Darkness_, in which the author mentioned Lucifer's plan of gaining the Winchesters' trust by impersonating his vessel, and I thought, wouldn't it be really neat if he actually went through with it? Hence this story. And what if as Lucifer played human, his presumption on mankind slowly shifted despite himself…

**The Finest Game**

The trouble with lying and deceiving is that their efficiency depends entirely upon a clear notion of the truth that the liar and deceiver wishes to hid. - Hannah Arendt

**Chapter One – An Encounter of the Other Kind**

It was one of those country roads that were the very incarnations of loneliness. There was nothing in sight except for the long stretches of grey, not even a ghost (not that he _wanted_ to see one). Dean Winchester turned down the music upon seeing his brother snoring beside him, and willed himself not to doze off as well and end up in a ditch.

It had been two weeks since the end of the Trials; two weeks since he stopped his brother from essentially killing himself; two weeks since Cas and all the other angels were cast down from Heaven. These weren't two weeks that Dean would ever want to relive.

When he came to think of it, there weren't any two weeks in the past decade or so that he would wish to go through again. Too many deaths, and too much blood. But right now they were on their way home from South Dakota. His brother was safe beside him; it was a tough week for both of them in the hospital, but Sam made it at the last, and at least now he didn't believe he was dispensable (_Jesus, where did the kid get that idea_). His best friend, who happened to be an angel – a fallen one – had finally made contact, and they agreed to meet at the Bunker. Just yesterday, they received info on mysterious events happening in east Colorado, and they decided to take a slight detour in case it were angels. Simply put, they were back on the road with a lead to follow and a war to fight. By Winchester standards, _all was good_…

Until a figure came into the range of the Impala's headlights. The man was just standing there, in the middle of the road as if it was the most common thing to do. Dean slammed on the brakes, and when he realized that he wouldn't be able to stop soon enough, he swerved to the right to avoid killing the stranger. The car skidded, nearly fell off the shoulder, and came to a stop. Dean let out a string of expletives, and Sam, jerked awake, started with "What the hell…"

"In my defence, there was a guy _in the middle of the road_." Said Dean.

"Gee, did you…hit him?" And yeah, that was his kid brother for ya, always worrying about other people.

"No, Sam, I didn't. I'm a much better driver than you." He quipped, reaching for his flashlight. He then exited the car in search of the cause of this accident; he needed to make sure that he didn't kill anyone, and if everything turned out okay he needed someone to yell at – the sound Baby made during the skid was very disconcerting. Sam followed suit.

Dean trudged back a few feet to see a man dressed in a thin shirt and jeans slowly getting up from the ground, but when he shone his light on the person's face, it was his turn to go "WTF" – it was the Devil. No, wait, just the guy the Devil used to use as a meat suit. Or was it Sam's hallucination? But he wouldn't be able to see Sam's hallucination even if he hadn't been cured, would he? Dean heard his brother gasp behind him. Regardless, Dean followed his survival instinct, took out his angel blade, and assumed a position of defence. If this was really Lucifer, they were screwed anyway. Holy oil was in the trunk – stupid on their part – and the Colt wouldn't do an ounce of good.

To Dean's surprise, the person raised his arm to shield his eyes from the light, and what he saw from the man was not animosity or malice, but fear.

"Hello? Who is that?" The figure with questionable identity called out. He had a strain in his voice as if he wasn't used to talking. Nonetheless, Dean shuddered at the voice, and he couldn't imagine what his brother was going through. He could still hear, to this day, the Devil's honeyed but deadly threats, his feigned innocent laughs before he _killed_. Dean didn't quite know how to respond, so he clutched the blade more tightly instead.

"I'm sorry, I didn't think there would be…I was just trying to hitch a ride…I didn't… Is your car alright?" The person continued.

"Yes, it is." Dean replied. Now this was seriously weird.

"Would you please lower the light…"

"Oh, my bad." Dean adjusted the flashlight so it didn't blind the person. Right then Sam, who was at times more socially inclined by far, had gathered himself despite the shock and stepped in for his brother, who apparently was at a loss for words. "Are you lost?"

Dean could now take a careful look at the stranger. He was middle-aged, looking dishevelled and extremely exerted. He had several cuts on his exposed skin as if he had tromped through a bush without looking where he was going, and he was shivering slightly in the chill of the evening. In appearance only, he looked exactly like the Devil they knew, but at the same time … everything about him looked perfectly human.

"Am I lost? Well … I don't know exactly where I am … I have been wandering. Yes, I suppose I am lost." The man said with nervousness, which was very strange to Dean, who automatically associated haughtiness and absolute confidence to his look.

Just then the stranger took some steps towards them and saw the blade in Dean's hand. His response was naturally alarmed. "Is that a knife … Oh God. I'm not armed, and I've got nothing on me, I swear … please don't…"

"It's okay. Dean, put that away." Sam stepped forward with his hands outstretched. Dean shot him an are-you-crazy look but that little self-sacrificing bastard ignored it. "Easy, it's alright. I'm unarmed, too. My name is Sam and this is my brother, Dean. We won't hurt you, I promise."

The man seemed to calm down a little, but didn't say anything. He looked over to Dean again, and suddenly staggered back with a look of horror on his face. "That's a … an angel blade. Are you angels?"

"Psst, no." Dean said in disgust. "Do we look like angels?"

Then realization dawned on the man. "You must be what they call hunters."

"Yes, that we are." Sam said encouragingly. "Dean, will you put that away? No one needs to get hurt."

Dean, although very unwillingly, put his blade back in the side of his jacket and let Sammy lead the play. He sincerely hoped his brother knew what he was doing.

"You are the Winchesters … " The stranger whispered with a mixed expression. "I remember now – the angels were talking about you all the time. Then you know who I am."

"Yes. You can trust us; we help people and save them from supernatural things like demons, and now angels too. Will you tell us your name?"

"Nicholas." The stranger answered immediately. "Nicholas Calvin."

"And what else do you remember?"

The man stared hard into the distance with a rueful smile. "I remember the Devil appearing in my dreams. I remember … light. And then … killing. Blood. Ah God." He stopped abruptly and bent down with hands covering his head. "It still hurts to … "

"Take your time. It's all over now." Sam said in his most soothing tone.

After a moment, the man collected himself and straightened up. "Can I please have some water?"

Dean opened the trunk and produced one of their stock bottled water - bottled _Holy Water_, Sammy's ingenious invention – and handed it to the stranger.

He gulped down the entire bottle as if he had been thirsty for days, and the nature of the beverage didn't bother him one bit. Dean, on some level, was relieved. But then they had no idea if Holy Water would affect the Devil at all. It probably wouldn't; Lucifer was an angel in essence.

"I just … am not ready to talk about all this right at this moment." He said after he finished drinking, a little out of breath.

"It's okay. We totally understand." Sam replied good-naturally. "Now, my brother and I were heading to Kansas, but we are more than happy to give you a ride. Is there somewhere in particular that you want to go? Where you used to live, maybe?"

"I used to live in…" There was a flick of longing in his eyes, but he blinked and it disappeared. "No, never mind. It's all gone now, anyway. No, I don't have anywhere to go."

"Okay. Kansas it is." Sam opened the backseat door. The man still eyed the brothers with apprehension, but got in after casting one last look at the deserted country road. No other vehicle was likely to pass by in a long, long time.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

As soon as the car door closed, Dean dragged his younger brother a dozen feet into the dark.

"Sammy, what did you just do?" He said in the angriest whisper he could manage.

"I was trying to help the person that you nearly ran over, Dean." Sam said, as calm as ever.

"That person used to be the friggin' Devil! Who then used you as …"

Sam promptly cut off his tirade. "I know full well what happened, but that _person_ is not some fallen angel. He is a vessel, just like me."

"So he says!"

"And so he looks and behaves! He looks every bit as human as you and I do. He drinks water like he'll die without it, he has blood on his cuts, and he shows _emotions_. Dean, you know angels – we've dealt with dozens of them, and I'll give you a billion dollars if you could find a single angel who could play human this well."

"Father of Lies, Sammy, Father of Lies." Dean huffed in annoyance.

"Now on to my second point," Sam continued. "Lucifer and Michael are _in the Cage_. I know because I went in with them…"

"Have you considered the possibility of the Cage opening as a result of Metatron casting the angels down?"

"That is highly unlikely, Dean. We have no evidence…"

"Screw evidence! Screw 'highly unlikely'!" Dean inadvertently raised his voice again. "I am talking about what if here. We've been through so much crazy lately. I don't want to take that risk!"

Sam's voice became a little louder too. "Yes, but _what if_ that guy is only human? _What if_ that guy over there is who he says he is; what if he just went through hell and needs someone – anyone - who can lend a helping hand? Can you live with the fact that you once saw a human in need and turned a blind eye? Especially when his sorry condition was caused largely by our own actions? I don't believe I can. I think I'll take that risk."

Dean spent a minute just staring at his beloved car, resting on the shoulder on the road with a suspicious individual sitting in it. The stranger had settled in the backseat, but was still fidgety with an uneasy look on his face. "I know what this is about. You think that this is _your fault _– Lucifer's last vessel getting possessed. Hell, you think everything - people dying, the Apocalypse - was your fault, don't you, Sammy?"

"Well, yes, I did kill Lilith and set the Devil free." Sam shot right back, unrelenting. "I did kick-start the Apocalypse. If that wasn't one hell of a mistake, then I don't know what is. And if I don't save… if I don't help every single life that I can, then I don't know how to even start making up for it."

Dean thought for a long while, and then looked up at his brother. "Very well." He said. "Let's go home now. I'm so tired of all this."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Thirty long, uneasy minutes later, the road merged onto the main highway, and they were starting to see civilization.

"Let me know if you need a stop or anything, okay? You alright there, Nick?" Dean asked. When no answer came from the backseat, he glanced in the rear-view mirror and saw the guy fast asleep. Dean was both concerned and relieved; for one, angels didn't sleep, so the possibility of his new passenger being human just increased significantly. That was great because Dean was really, really not in the mood to deal with the Devil and the Apocalypse at that moment - or any moment, for that matter. But then he'd also seen Cas fall into a sleep-like state when he was not fully powered. He didn't particularly wish to deal with a not-fully-powered Devil either.

The long road stretched on as they entered the state of Kansas – they were finally home. Now, they would find ways to deal with the problem of angels falling out of the sky. But before then, they had a few more tests to run before they could be sure that the person sleeping in the backseat was who he said he was. If so, they had to find out how everything came to be. The suspicious occurring in Colorado would have to wait.


	3. Two - Coming Home

Thank yous to those who reviewed.

**Chapter Two – Coming Home**

He woke up to the sound of the trunk being slammed closed. It was completely dark now, and the Winchester brothers were not in the car with him. Wait, did he … fall asleep? How could that happen? When "waking up" became somewhat normal to him, he had to realize that something was seriously wrong. Twice in this day, he came to without a single idea of where he was. _Playing human? Saying that he was essentially human would be closer to the truth._ The realization hit him so hard that he was nearly sent into a panic. He was _human_, no different than any of those lowly beings that Father had been so fascinated with. He had no control over his actions, even if that meant falling asleep in a confined space with his enemies. He didn't have to _pretend_ that he needed to drink and breathe; he would really die without water and air. He had never fallen so low.

It started a little over eight earth hours ago, when he woke up in a wooded space without remembering ever losing consciousness. Okay, it started a little earlier than that; he wasn't sure how long ago it was. One second he was brooding in the eternal boredom of the Cage, then the next the ground shook violently and a piercing while light seeped in through the edges. It was a very agitating state. Although reluctantly, he moved closer to Michael –not for comfort, but for … whatever excuse he could make up - and saw the terror on his older brother's face. Then it was all white, and he knew nothing.

When he came to, he was on the ground, and his brother was nowhere to be found. There were trees everywhere from what he could see, and the soft lighting came from way above. _He was on earth_.

Isn't it great? He thought sarcastically. There and back again. He was free. Now this time no obnoxious older brother or self-righteous human hunters would put him back in the Cage. After two stays in that depressingly confined space, nothing would make him return; he would rather be with _humans_. This time, the Morning Star would have his way.

He proceeded to stand up, but something was seriously wrong. For one thing, he was cold, which was unusual. Angels weren't supposed to be susceptible to weather and temperature. But now he was almost shivering in this late fall day, with a most unbearable hollow coldness right before the first winter snow. What was weirder was that everything hurt. It was the physical kind of pain - the kind that he should be able to heal with a thought and never worry about again - not the grace slashed by an angel blade sort of pain. That latter kind he was used to. This? This was human pain, and he found it very unpleasant. He tried to whisk this uncomfortable sensation away, but nothing happened.

And how come he was in corporeal form anyway? He carefully examined himself the way a human infant would: he was dressed in a shirt and what humans called jeans. More importantly, he was currently in his secondary vessel, which was both ridiculous and far from ideal. If his memories served, that poor sap burnt away to nothing long ago. Of course, if he really wanted to, he could restore the vessel one carbon atom at a time. But that would take a painstakingly long time, and he had no recollection of doing so. Why on earth would he remake a vessel that would wear out eventually anyway? If this was one of Father's ill-timed jokes, it wasn't funny at all.

But no, wait, the vessel wasn't burning out at the moment. In fact, he couldn't feel his grace at all. Whatever happened he could not possible grasp, but the truth was that he was on earth, in a vessel that wouldn't really work, with his grace running so low that he was _almost human_. All of this was reason enough to do something drastic, but he couldn't fly through time or space or anything for that matter, so he forced himself to calm down and think.

What should he do now? He had virtually no power, but if he imitated humans, he should blend in easy enough. Due to the peculiar way in which he came to be free, he had no idea what date, or even what human year it was. That could be a problem, but he could easily find out as soon as he hit civilization. But where was civilization? Looking around him, he saw no human activity, or any animals at all. He was surrounded by dead leaves and brown, naked trees. Even though it was still morning, the sun was hiding behind the thick clouds, leaving the sky a pale white. No, he had to look for humans, as much as he loathed that idea. His safety would come in crowds; angels and demons, all potentially dangerous to him in his current state, wouldn't single him out as easily. He would have to wait for his grace to be replenished. Patience having never been his strong suit, he concentrated and flexed his grace yet again. Nope. Not working. He had to wait, and in the meantime, the priority was to find a safe place and lay low. His grace would grow back to full power again, he was confident, but until then … He had to exercise caution, and not run into Michael if he could help it, although a tiny part of him was still wondering where his brother was.

First up on the to-do list: find humans. But where were they? Had he been at full power, he could simply stretch out his senses and pinpoint the nearest town. However, right now, all he could do was tell which way was north, and not that accurately either. Quenching all self-pity, he picked a direction and started his long, long trek.

The last time he was on earth, he had an agenda, and human days flew by in flashes. On this unfortunate day, however, every hour seemed to drag on forever, and by evening, he still hadn't encountered a single human. As each minute went on, he had a worse sensation in his throat, tripped on tree roots more frequently, and Father, did his head hurt.

For the very first time in his millennia of existence, Lucifer was genuinely happy when he saw something purely artificial: a cement road. Cars travelled on roads, and he should find aggregations of humans as long as he followed the road. It was already pretty dark, and there was no time to lose. Humans no longer spent their nights in the wild, and he supposed he shouldn't, either. He stepped on the road, but just then he noticed that something else was out of place. Silence. The most lonely, terrifying silence. There was no sound on "angel radio". When he was thrown back in the Cage with his brother and two humans, the constitution of the Cage somehow changed: he was no longer able to tap into his siblings' constant conversations and thought streams like before. Now that he was out of Hell, there was no reason for radio silence. Maybe he wasn't concentrating, that was all. His grace couldn't have faltered so much, could it? Being able to share their siblings' words was innate to angels; this complete silence that shouldn't have been unnerved him to no end. So the newly powerless Devil stood in the middle of a Colorado county road, completely disregarding the fact that roads were built for cars and not daydreaming humans. With screeching tires, a sleek, black car raced towards him, and for a split second, Lucifer stared down what he thought was certain death. Then his survival instinct kicked in, and he fell to the side to avoid getting hit. When he recognized the brothers getting out of the car, it was too late. But instead of flight or fight, the con artist inside of him came up with a much better option. Why the hell not? He needed a place to stay, access to information, and preferably, protection from angels and certain demons. There were no one who disliked the Heavenly Host as much as he did except for the two humans standing in front of him. _The Winchesters_. How convenient. Maybe this was one of Father's less thoughtful designs – namely, the human race – after all.

Lucifer cleared his throat, took a moment to fall into character, and called out "Hello? Who is that?" The rest of it just sort of played itself out.

Someone pulled open the car door and the sudden chill knocked him out of his musings. "We are here." Said a familiar voice. For a split second, he thought that it was Michael, but fortunately corrected himself in time. It was the older Winchester brother, the Michael Sword. The man emanated the same kind of aura as Michael – that was what made Dean the true vessel, he supposed – and his weakened senses were desperately trying to hang on to something familiar. He made a mental note not to accidentally call out his brother's name or reply to something in Enochian – that would be a dead giveaway.

He stepped out of the car – it was freaking cold out – and followed the human. "We are … in the middle of nowhere." He stated upon seeing their surroundings. The younger brother was laying something on the ground. Lucifer had an uneasy feeling all of a sudden. Dean walked to his brother and gestured for him to follow, which he did.

"Where exactly are we?" Lucifer asked again, to no avail. The human brothers abruptly stepped back; Sam struck up a match, and the next thing he knew was that a ring of Holy Fire had ignited around him. He was trapped.

"'Tis the moment of truth." Said Dean with sarcasm dripping out. Both brothers stared intently at him from a distance, the way visitors to zoos marvel at dangerous beasts of the wild trapped behind bars. The brilliant flames hissed with a calm menace all around him; the ring really wasn't that big at all. He could feel the heat taunting him. The beauty of holy oil – it took a mighty long time for it to burn out. The circle seemed to be getting closer, heat waves washing over him just like they did in Hell. He was really panicking now.

But a good conman does not loose his ground over something as petty as fear. In the face of those cursed flames, he could not maintain a calm complexion for the love of Father, but he did remind himself that any human, upon finding himself enclosed in a ring of fire, would be more than a little freaked as well. _Play the victim_, he told himself, _play the victim_.

"This … this is Holy Fire, isn't it?" He forced out. "I don't understand … " Then he let what he hoped to be utmost horror flicker across his face. "You think I'm him." He breathed out, dejected.

The older Winchester replied, toying with his angel blade. The weapon looked particularly deadly as the flames reflected off of it, a flash of silver in the dark of night. "We don't think anything. All you gotta do is step out of that little ring of fire – unless you _can't_."

He looked down to the flames – true, they were really not that tall. A normal human could easily jump out without getting burnt, but to him, it would be a different story. Holy Fire is the failsafe weapon against angels; it feeds on grace. The moment he neared the ring, the flames would jump up and smother him like tiny, burning crocodiles leaping for that one unfortunate antelope. Holy Fire was not fatal to archangels, per se, but it sure would hurt. A lot. There was no way he would be able to get out unharmed, and with his healing abilities out of commission, he couldn't afford to get injured. He let the human's comment fly way over his head. "You think that I am _him_." He said again, full of disbelief. "What would that be, some sick joke?" He looked to Sam, who seemed slightly uneasy.

"And as if I wasn't in all this because of _you_." He continued, letting his eyes fix on the younger brother. "Yes, you let him free, didn't you? With all your high and mighty, saving the world crap? He talked all about it. All of those angels were yapping about it, and no one could get them to stop." Both humans were a little taken back now. Very well. "I went through what no human could comprehend, but I guess you do understand, don't you, _Sam Winchester_? I saw through my own eyes dozens and dozens of innocent people die; my hands killed women, and children, the way some psychopath slaughtered my own family because no matter how hard I tried, my will wasn't mine anymore and I couldn't make _him_ stop." By then, tears stung in his eyes – due to the heat, mainly – but for theatrical effect he made no effort to keep them back. "And now what? When at last I get my freedom, I am trapped, yet again, in _Holy Fire_, by the almighty Winchesters … aren't you supposed to help people … how can you when you cannot trust a fellow human one bit …"

A brilliant idea came to him mid-monologue – any of his brothers would laugh his head off had they heard him deliver such a mawkish, sissy talk. Holy Fire feeds on _grace_; what if he didn't have much of it in the first place? He searched inward for his almost non-existent celestial life source, and eyed the flames again. It could work. He could get out of this fix quickly and gain the hunters' trust along the way, or he could hurt himself and be defeated, or killed, by the Winchesters once again. It could go both ways, but time wasn't on his side; emotional monologues could only buy him that much time. All the decision-making was done in less than two seconds. Bracing his thin tendrils of grace, Lucifer boldly stepped out of the ring of Holy Fire.

It hurt, as he had expected, but not that badly. He was successful in keeping himself from crying out, or even making a grimace. "Now, that should prove my case." He regarded the older Winchester as coolly as he could manage.

The man looked at him with great sadness. "I'm so sorry, man" was all Dean said before he walked over to put out the ring of fire. The younger hunter stood there in both defeat and relief. Sam walked over to him, looked like he was trying to apologize again, but in the end nothing came out. Sammy, the sentimental and self-loathing black sheep of the family; he had always liked him, even when he was being such a stubborn little brat.

The brothers finished cleaning up the holy oil, and wordlessly got back in the car. Sam pulled open the door for him to enter, so he did. Dean turned the car around and away from the main road, and all of a sudden he stopped and said "Kevin, it's us" into a hidden intercom. With old machinery whirring came blinding white light. A door was reeled up to reveal a seemingly endless long room with a myriad of human vehicles lined up as far as eyes could see. A garage. How peculiar. In the light, Lucifer could see Dean turn to grin at his younger brother, an almost child-like joy glistening in his eyes. "We're home, Sammy."


End file.
